(3)The Ghost of Thranduil Elvenking: In Her Eyes
by Me And Not You 1001
Summary: Jenna grew up in a less than happy home with her younger brother Charlie. But when Jack Hudson moves to town, she realizes she isn't who she thinks she is and she has a lot of work to do. 10/11walker and more. The Ghost of Thranduil Elvenking, through Jenna/Tauriel's POV.
1. Prologue A Peak Into Time

Prologue: A Peak Into Time

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Jenna Folk jumped the last two feet of the climbing wall and turned to her new boyfriend. "Time?"

The dark haired eighteen-year-old looked up. "Five minutes, twenty-two seconds."

Jenna let out a sigh and began taking off the climbing gear she'd borrowed from the gym. "Not perfect, but workable."

"What is next?"

Jenna looked up, he looked enthusiastic enough, but she couldn't help but wonder if it was fake. "You don't have to do this with me, if you're bored you can go."

"No," he shook his head. "I enjoy watching you train. What is next?"

Jenna smiled, but her stomach sank. Jack Hudson was a nice guy. Really sweet and quite gorgeous, if Jenna did say so herself, but they hardly knew each other. Jenna was a fitness nut that read fantasy in her spare time and had a weird younger brother, that was all there was to it. She was anti-social and an outcast. Jack was cute, popular right from the get-go, and all the girls in school were dying for a chance at the 'new kid'.

What had Jenna been thinking when she'd agreed to go out with him? She didn't seem to have anything in common with him and if she got too close, it was just asking for problems. But, in her defense, she always felt super light and less stressed when he was around, but that she claimed was due to having company other than herself or Charlie.

"The mile." Jenna finally answered, trying to push her doubts aside.

Jack smiled, taking her hand in one of his and her gym-bag in the other. "There will be no need to explain with this activity.

Jenna smiled more sincerely this time as her stomach fluttered warmly. Oh! That smile! Maybe she did know what she was thinking. No debate about this one, any trouble Jack was, would definitely worth his smile. It was super gorgeous...almost inhuman.

Jenna hid a shutter as the thought struck and stuck. Now that she thought about it, a lot about Jack seemed too perfect. The way his hair was always perfectly done. His pale eyes that seemed closer to a hundred years old rather than eighteen. His perfect posture. His perfectly toned body that never tanned no matter how long he stayed in the sun on the football field. The way he always seemed to be holding out so he didn't hurt anybody during practices or games.

Then another thought joined that. _His language—er, speech._ Jenna thought. He spoke like he was born and raised a prince or something.

Jenna's thoughts broke as Jack squeezed her hand and smiled at her. "Do you want to stop for a meal after you run?"

Jenna pushed down her thoughts again and smiled. "Sure, if you want, but if Charlie can come as well."

"That is fine, he may join us."

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 **AN: I know I haven't been around for a while, but I'm not doing updates yet. I'm moving stuff around, rewriting, THEN I'll do updates.**


	2. Chapter 1 Jack Hudson

Chapter 1: Jack Hudson

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I grew up at the age of five. My mother died in an accident, five days after I turned five, my baby brother was only a year old. My dad…well, just because I lived with him didn't mean it is all butterflies and unicorns. He was never around, when he was, he was usually full of whatever alcoholic beverage he could get his hands on. He hit me, all the time, and when he wasn't hitting me, he was hitting my brother, but…Never mind the relationship my brother and I have with my dad.

I love to play the violin, it isn't a hobby, it's a passion. I can _feel_ the music in the air, in the world around me and when I play I can lose myself in that music. In that music, I can join in, add my own melody, and I never once am bothered for it—least ways, not by the music, plenty of people find my impromptu solos of pure improve strange.

Aside from that or when I can't play, I read fantasy novels and I love history. I am okay at school, but I especially love physical exercise, it was my passion, _after_ the violin. I hike, rock-climb, run the mile, lift weights, wrestle, and cheer, on occasion.

I have bright, green eyes, shiny, auburn hair, and I wear glasses. I am what people would call a geek. I act shy and nobody ever really notices me, but that's the way I like it. I don't care for the opinions of others and care even less for the attention of others. While I could be as wild as any red-head, I choose the easier path and pass under the radar for all the lack of drama it brings.

My baby brother's name is Charlie, Charles George Folk—to my Jennapher Samantha Folk. He is just like me, green eyes, auburn hair, and glasses. He _is_ shy, he loves to read (just like me), and he plays the cello, his passion to my passion. We've talked, and I know he hears what I hear—honestly, it makes me feel a little less weird, when I know my adorably weird little brother can hear it too.

I read to him, late at night when Dad had passed out, or on the bus, on our way to or from school. We look at maps together (for his love of geography) and whenever he needs help, I'd show him how to do his homework, but…We weren't happy, not hardly.

I can't remember the last time I saw Charlie smile. In fact, he cried, often. I didn't, but only because I knew I had to be strong and hold it in, to show Charlie it was okay. If his strength was seen with tears in her eyes, he'd be so utterly lost, and I could never do that too him. The only joy we ever really found was playing our instruments. Me, in the band room with nobody there to judge me. Him, I don't know how and when he did, sometimes he didn't want to talk to me about school, but he said he played.

It was the way it was, and everybody seemed comfortable with not truly knowing. Until this year, my senior year, when Jack Hudson moved into town.

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I first saw him the third of October, second period, Public Speaking. I sit in the back, as always, my book already opened, having no interest in listening to thirty-some-odd speeches on rudeness. It was a book on European Art and Artists. He was an eighteen-year-old as pale as a ghost with skin that looked like porcelain and platinum, silvery, white hair that fell in straight lengths down his back. He had absolutely perfect skin, smooth as silk without a single blemish or acne scar and blue eyes, so pale and cold they could have been made of ice. He wore a white polo, a black leather jacket, and black skinny-jeans. It looked as though puberty had come up and given him a French-kiss rather than a knuckle-sandwich, as it did most kids.

I also noticed, his eyes looked ancient, like that of an old wise man, but clear, with light and energy as though he was still in the prime of his life. That was the first thing I ever noticed about him that made him truly stand out among us "normal" people—aside from his supermodel beauty.

The moment he walked into the room, he moved to the back, taking the seat furthest the teacher's desk. Mr. Jax came in and class began. "Alright, munchkins, we have a new student!" He clapped his hands together. "This is Jack, Jack Hudson. Poor sap's from out of town, so be nice when he gives his speech today!"

I ignored everything and kept reading not caring about whatever this poor guy was going to do for his improv speech. I had read about a page when my neck prickled, sensing someone's eyes on me I looked up. His cold, clear-cut diamond eyes were staring right at me, a small smirk on his face. For someone new, he stood at the front of the room with such ease and nonchalance he could have been the teacher.

We remained in eye contact for a moment, before he suddenly spoke. "Rudeness. Rudeness is a meaningless word used to refer to the truth that no one wishes to hear and takes offence to when it is spoken in an individual's disregard for the opinion and-or heart of others."

I stared at him for a minute, then returned to reading. "The young lady with blonde hair, in the second row, has an excessive amount of make-up on." My head snapped up and met his eyes again. His hands were clasped behind his back and he wore a dark smile that never reached his eyes. "The boy with glasses, beside the window, smells foul." I looked over at Carl, much like the whole class had, then back at Jack. "The red-haired young lady in the back of the classroom did not do her hair." I looked down at my wild hair, then back at him, my face never changed once.

I studied his passive look as the room exploded with anger. "Mr. Hudson, that was uncalled for, apologize immediately." Mr. Jax looked angry, but I could tell he was secretly impressed.

The boy looked at him, then back to the class. "I am giving a speech," he said lightly, "will you listen or are you too rude?" I glanced around again as everyone fell silent. He had all our attention.

"I would like to point out, the differences in reactions. Some of you were offended because I insulted you," he looked to Carl, "others offended for those I insulted," he glanced at Vanessa and her friends, "though you," he gestured to me, "did not care nor react in anyway."

"What caused you to decide upon whether my words are insulting or merely comments to the truth? It is not I, the one who said the words, rather those who the words were directed toward. Does that change that they are truth? I doubt it." He paused, making eye contact with me, again. "So, what makes my words so ill-mannered, or rude, for lack of a better word?"

"A truth they may be, but to say them is both, unnecessary and harsh." I spoke up and everyone's eyes turned to me. "Every truth need not be said, because every truth has another truth attached and unless all truth is known, it is not your business to state it." I gave him a dark look, not sure if he'd said what he'd said to get a reaction from me, or if it was for the sake of his speech. I had a small inkling of a feeling, that it was the former. "Vanessa has bruises on her face that she has to cover, or everyone will know her boyfriend beats her. Carl's mom is having trouble finding work and cannot afford to pay the water bill. And I did not do my hair today."

The last part was only a small truth. I did not do my hair, I was simply repeating what I had, but the truth that would support his words would be: my dad beat me this morning and my little brother had to hide in the bathroom for safety, by the time he was done, it was too late to do my hair, as it was impossible to do on the bumpy bus ride to school.

He did see this because he smiled at me. It was no longer dark, but sincere, this time it reached his artic eyes. "You speak true. Rudeness is the truth that should not be said due to partial knowledge and ill-mannered arrogance. Something I am known for." He smirked and bowed dramatically, before returning to his seat.

"Pretty good," I whispered to him as the class clapped.

"Thank you." I thought about taking it further, but decided not to. He was a new kid, but he would be part of the popular group soon and easily enough. I returned to my book and ignored him for the rest of class.

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 **AN: Rewrite. Please review and tell me what you think so far. If the story doesn't align with my other Ghost of Thranduil Elvenking, that's because I haven't fixed that one yet.**


	3. Chapter 2 Unsought Attentions

Chapter 2: Unsought Attentions

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After Collage Algebra, I saw Jack Hudson only twice more. Once for lunch, where he joined the football jocks at Jacob's table. The second time, was P.E., where he annihilated everyone in flag football with like he played the NFL on off days.

But all thought of him was easily driven from my mind when I got on the bus at the end of the day and rode it home, with Charlie sleeping on my shoulder. Daddy was drunk, as usual, and as soon as we stepped into the house, he fell upon us with anger and violence.

Sleep didn't happen that night, nor did homework. Daddy didn't pass out as he normally did. When he finally stopped, I helped Charlie patch himself up, then we curled on my bed together. He couldn't sleep though, and neither could I. Whenever I dozed off, I was jolted awake by nightmares of giant spiders, ugly goblin-creatures, and Daddy, flooding me with the fear that if I spelt, I wouldn't be awake to protect Charlie, when those things came for them.

When dawn came, we got up, dressed, I didn't have time brush my hair again, but I didn't care, and we got on the bus as soon as it showed up. I helped Charlie finish his homework while we rode. We got to the middle school, he left, we got to the high school, I got off, and school began as it always had. I noticed Hudson's attention, as he always seemed to be watching me, but he never approached me, and I never bothered to care. I have bigger problems then an attentive stranger.

It wasn't until nearly a month after he moved, did he finally become a bigger problem.

At the beginning of lunch, November seventh, he approached me. "Your name is Jenna, correct?" he asked, his voice was smooth and deep. He could probably sing pretty good, which was a stupid thought.

"Jennapher," I corrected, "Jennapher Folk."

He sat down across from me, without invitation. "Jack Hudson. May I call you Jenna, or do you prefer Jennapher?" He was calm and the air of ease he carried never left him, he wore it well—he wore everything well. He could probably wear sac-cloth and wear it well.

"Jennapher, only people I like call me Jenna." Maybe he'd get the hint and go away.

"Jenna," He continued, as though I hadn't answered.

"Jennapher," I corrected sharply. As pretty as he was, he was starting to get on my nerves.

He smiled but didn't correct himself. "May I join you?"

I stared at him for a moment. "You already have." I answered snidely.

He nodded. "Yes, but should you disapprove, I shall remove myself."

I blinked in surprise. I'd expected him to be a self-centered jerk, but he actually looked like he'd leave if I told him to. "Fine, whatever."

I pulled out my homework, while he set his stuff down and got in line for a school lunch. What in the world was with his strange formal speech, it was unnerving. That was the second thing I noticed about him. His speech was perfect, as though he'd been taught by an old English Professor, a thousand years ago, when English was still as formal as it could be.

I shook my head and applied myself to Western Civ. I was halfway done when he got back. He sat silently and began to eat, back rim-rod straight, movements smooth and mannerly, his artic, calculating eyes boring me the entire time.

He finally spoke, making me jump, at the unexpecting sound. "Are you not going to eat?" He asked softly. The softly almost caught me off guard, as much as what he actually said. It was almost as if he was concerned, which was crap, because he was a total stranger.

I looked up, a guarded look in my eyes, I wouldn't allow him to see my surprise. I'd been ignoring his stare the entire time, but now, looking back at him, I realized he was studying me quite hard, and without embarrassment. I'd never known anyone but the lunch ladies to notice that I never ate.

"Um…" Honestly, I didn't know what to say. He was staring my eyes so hard, I felt like he would tear through my mask and reading my soul, as easily as he tore through the defense in flag football, it was scary unnerving. I was always so emotionless, never letting my mask fall, and never letting anyone see. But today, this kid, this new, adorably handsomely beautiful man had me blushing like a damsel in distress, and now I couldn't even remember how to speak. What was he?! And how did he do it?! He made me feel calm and safe, yet so confused and fearful at the same time!

"Jenna, Dear?" I broke our intimidating contest to look up at Ms. Cristy. "Someone didn't have lunch money, but already touched the food. Would you like it?" She held out the tray to me. I stared at it, somehow always awed that they'd give me food for free, without me ever asking. The kindness they show me, day after day, it astounded me to universal ends. Today, the lunch she offered was mashed potatoes with gravy, a hot roll, chicken patty, warm corn, and strawberry milk—my favorite. It looked good and I wanted it so much it hurt—literally, I hadn't eaten in a day and a half and I was hungry—and I'd love to have something to bring home for Charlie to eat, but, if I was caught, I'd pay, hard.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Cristy, I can't pay for it." I answered reluctantly, giving her a fake, but bright smile, before turning my eyes back to the homework in front of me. I would have cried, except my mask was so icy and cold, the tears would have frozen before they ever fell. I ignored Jack's imploring gaze.

I could almost hear the smile in her voice, when she set the tray down in front of me. "That's alright, Dear. It's on the house, we'd just throw it away, anyway. This way, it isn't wasted." It was the same excuse as always, but as always, it made me feel as light as if I could fly, the feeling wouldn't last though, this I knew.

I looked up at her. She had wispy gray hair, covered with a hair net, warm brown eyes, a kind smile, and age spots and freckles. I couldn't help but let a real smile slip through my mask, for her. If I could, I'd call her 'Granny', she seemed like the perfect example of a granny, to me. I'd hug her all the time and tell her how much she made me feel loved. I'd thank her for all the times I'd been able to take home saved food for Charlie, but all I could do was smile, because if I said anything, he'd hurt me. He'd hurt us both, worse than normal. He might even kill us, so, I just smiled.

However, as soon as she turned away, tears pricked my eyes. Even my cold mask couldn't remain strong forever, as much as I tried. I stretched it as far as I could, but eventually, it was going to snap like a rubber band…and it was going to hurt when it did.

I watched her portly form saunter back into the kitchen like she'd just won the lottery; I envied her. To her, she'd just helped someone in need, she'd just gotten a rare smile out of someone that never smiled, and she'd done good today. To me, I'd received help I wasn't allowed to accept, I would have to hide it until late into the night when he was either gone or asleep, I would get a rare sad-smile from Charlie, the only kind he gave me, and I couldn't do anything to make it real and happy. I couldn't smile at her again and tell her how good she made me feel. I couldn't hug her or any of the other lunch ladies. I could only do what I always did, put on a mask and pretend it didn't exist.

When I looked back at Jack, he was still staring at me, his face masked with indifference. When I made no move to touch the food he asked, "Will you not eat now?"

Slowly, I put my work away and pulled the tray to me. I ate the mashed potatoes with gravy and the warm corn, but as soon as Jack stood up to throw his trash away and return his tray, I wrapped the chicken patty and hot roll in a napkin and stashed it in my backpack, with the milk. The bell rang just as he returned. A look of confusion flashed through his eyes, but his own mask fell back into place just as quickly and he didn't say anything. He nodded his head to me in a sort of bow, before joining the jocks for a free period.

I was so confused, but I didn't care, I had places to be.

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 **AN: Rewrite. Please review and tell me what you think. The next chapter will be an update.**


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